Some Scars Don't Fade
by Hallilujah
Summary: When three dismembered bodies are found in Yellowstone National Forest, Sam and Dean are called to investigate the gruesome scene, while running into an unfavorable character from their past. With no choice but to work together, the trio will hunt for the unknown creature that lurks the forests of Wyoming's most famous tourist attraction.
1. Avoid the Clearing

_Prologue_

"Are you sure it's a wendigo?" A nervous female voice asked in a faint whisper as pine needles crackled under two pairs of feet. Undergrowth rustled, and two figures lit by the bright moon stepped through. The first one, a hunched old man in a tattered fishing cap, straightened up and scanned the clearing. Despite his age, his bright blue-green eyes were alert and cautious, as if his mind had yet to catch up to his body. In his hands, a bright red flare gun was held pointed to the forest floor with a knobby, liver-spotted finger hovering over the trigger.

Behind him, the second figure stepped forward. A teen girl wearing a stained baseball cap rose from within the bushes, shakily looking up to the clearing they stood in. "Grampa?" she spoke again, slightly louder than before, in hopes the old man could hear her.

The old man turned to look at her, his eyes practically glowing in the silvery moonlight, and placed a finger to his lips.

"Sshhh!" he hissed aggressively, louder than both times his granddaughter spoke. "Keep quiet! You're gonna wake up the whole forest!" The old man's voice was ragged and cracked with age, but still seemed to echo through the silent pine trees that surrounded the pair.

The girl shied away, ducking her head so the brim of her hat hid his face from her line of sight. The loud, harshly toned words sent a cringe through her body, making her curl her hands into fists. "Sorry," she whispered, feeling guilty.

The old man put his hand back on the handle of his flare gun and began to walk deeper into the clearing, his heavy hiking boots made gentle footsteps as he tried his best to move silently. There once was a time he had steps like velvet, but that was years ago. Now, the old man couldn't hear as well as he used to, and he didn't realize the noise his boots were making.

The teen hesitantly followed him. Her own feet were significantly quieter than her grandfather's, but with her inexperience, she had yet to perfect the soundless walk.

Wind faintly whistled through the treetops overhead, and the pine trees rattled. A small burst of wind hit the two, tugging at their flannel shirts and denim jackets, and the girl's eyes narrowed in thought.

"Grampa?" she whispered softly to the old man.

He sighed, and turned to look at her. "What?"

"I don't think this is a wendigo we're hunting," she said, chewing on her lip nervously.

The old man snorted. "Of course it's a wendigo. What else could it be?"

Biting her bottom lip, the teen didn't answer. Instead, she gave a hesitant shrug, and the old man rolled his eyes.

"Listen, kiddo. Who has the decades of knowledge and experience here?"

She ducked her head down and stared guiltily at the hiking boots identical to her grandfather's. "You."

"That's right. Now let's get this job done and go home." His hand slid off the handle of his flare gun and he reached over to readjust her cap by the brim. The cap was lifted, and identical sets of blue-green eyes met. "Do you have your flare gun?" he asked, removing his hand and giving her a pointed look.

She nodded, then pulled out the bright red gun from her belt, easily displaying the fact that she had it. Her grandfather gave her a small nod of approval, then turned his back to her, returning to the hunt once more.

Before he could take another step, a sudden monstrous cry echoed over the faint wind and through the trees, making the both of them freeze. Silence fell over the woods for a few short moments, when the same roar sounded again, only significantly closer.

The old man narrowed his eyes in thought, then took a small step back so he stood directly in front of his granddaughter. "That's not right," he muttered. Quickly, he shoved his flare gun back in a homemade holster on his belt, and pulled out a handgun from another.

"Grampa?" The girl gasped, clutching her flare gun tightly with both hands. She watched as he stepped into a defensive stance while lifting his gun in the direction the cry had come from.

Then, an indistinct sound hit her ears. The wind in the trees barely masked it, but as seconds passed, the noise quickly turned to a quiet whistling, not unlike the wind. She rose her eyes up to the tops of the trees; at the same moment, she felt her stomach drop.

Black streaks like arrows were flying in an arch over the trees, heading straight for them. A loud gasp escaped her lips, and the old man glanced over his shoulder to look at her.

At the exact same time, the black arrows landed, peppering the forest floor around them in puffs of black vapor. The girl's gasp turned into a scream, and the old man staggered back. One of the bolts barely missed his nose when he turned, and landed next to a mossy rock halfway buried in the ground.

"Run!" The old man shouted.

The pair spun to the direction they came from and took off to the edge of the clearing. In the same moment, the distant whistling of more incoming black spikes began to catch in their ears, signalling the new wave.

The teen let out a scream of terror when a spike landed in front of her, and she froze. Her grandfather reached out to push her shoulder, when he let out a yell of his own.

A black spike protruded out of his shoulder with the black mist billowing from the wound. Grimacing, the old man reached up and yanked the spike out with a shaking hand.

There was a crash of cracking wood and the pair spun around to direction of the sound. A tremendous roar filled the woods, and at the same time, the teen girl let out an ear-piercing scream of terror.


	2. Unexpected Meeting

_Tombstone, Arizona_

"Thank you for your time Mrs. Owen. We'll let you know if something comes up." Sam told the sniffing woman as he and Dean stepped out of the home of the recently-made widow.

Mrs. Owen nodded sadly as she wiped at her running eyeliner with a damp tissue, smearing her already messy makeup even more. "Thank you Agent House. I knew my husband would never kill himself." She hiccuped, but managed to force a tight-lipped smile to the tall man.

Forcing their own smiles in return, the two brothers nodded goodbye, then stepped off the porch as Mrs. Owen closed the door. Once she was out of earshot, Dean turned to his younger brother, Sam, as they made their way off the Owens' property, his fake FBI smile gone. "I swear, man. What is up with ladies and wearing too much perfume these days?"

His younger, yet much taller brother shrugged as they stepped through the front gate and out onto the sidewalk that spanned along the street. "I don't know. But cut the lady some slack. Her husband was just killed by a ghost this week."

Releasing a snort, Dean shook his head and smiled as he pulled a set of car keys out of his jacket pocket. "Ironic, isn't it? We're hunting a ghost in a town called 'Tombstone'. Sounds like the start of a bad joke."

"Yeah, well, with the Apocalypse going on these days, it wouldn't hurt to make a few jokes, bad or not," Sam added as he walked behind his brother.

Suddenly, Dean stopped short, and Sam turned to him in confusion. "Dean?"

The elder Winchester frowned angrily and stomped to a parked black '67 Chevy Impala where a large yellow dog was sniffing the front tire of the car, obviously thinking about marking it.

"Hey, step away from my Baby!" Dean snapped at the furry animal in annoyance, waving his hands at it, but this didn't seem to bother the lean dog as it wagged its tail earnestly. Rolling his eyes, Dean waved his arms again, the keys in his hand jingled loudly. "Shoo! Move it, mutt!" he growled angrily.

The dog stopped short, then turned its head to face Dean with a curious expression on its face. It's large brown eyes were wide and friendly, and it gave him a doggish grin. Dean held out his hands to wave at the dog again to shoo it away again, when suddenly, the dog jumped up and snatched the hanging keys out of his fingers with its teeth, then took off down the sidewalk.

The two brothers exchanged a shocked look, before they charged after the fleeing canine. "Hey!" Dean shouted after it, angrier than before.

Mrs. Owen, the widow they had just visited, lived in a small house on the corner of the street across from a line of small stores. All were old and in desperate need of a fresh layer of paint, with chipping brick walls and dusty windows that you could barely see through. The yellow dog didn't hesitate in running across the road to reach the stores, forcing the boys to sprint faster just to keep up with its four legs.

The dog led them down past a few sores, then abruptly turned into a dark alley behind a diner with a burnt out neon 'open' sign in the large windows.

Dean charged after the dog, only to freeze in shock as he skidded into the alley. The expected yellow dog was sitting content in the middle of the alley as a young woman stood hunched over him, gently scratching behind the canine's floppy ears.

"Good boy," she said pleasantly to the four-legged animal, dragging her palm over his furry head. The dog happily panted at her feet with his pink tongue lolling out the side of his open muzzle.

The young woman was dressed like a hunter. She wore a pair of faded jeans with patches at the knees, a dark blue t-shirt, and a loose red and black flannel under a stained denim jacket. A tattered backpack was slung over her shoulder, looking more stained and worn than the jacket she wore. Hiking boots peeked out under her jeans, but they were caked in so much mud, Dean could only assume they were brown underneath.

With a final pat on the dog's head, the blonde stood up to her full height to face Dean. The hunter glanced down to her hand, and with an angry frown, he realized she was holding his car keys.

The dog at her feet wagged its tail a final time, then happily trotted down the alley and out of sight.

Dean sensed his little brother step behind him, and felt Sam stiffen as he caught sight of the blonde in front of them. The last time they had seen this woman wasn't a pleasant meeting, and Dean knew his brother wasn't exactly her biggest fan.

"Hey boys. Long time no see," she greeted them with a nod and folded her arms.

Dean gave her an angry glare. "You have exactly three seconds to give those back," he snarled, pointing to the keys in her hand.

The blonde woman held up the key ring and looked at it curiously, as if she had no idea how it got there, then shook it. The keys jingled loudly, sounding like a cry for help to Dean. He took a step to the blonde, but she slid his keys in the pocket of her stained denim jacket.

"You better hand them over, mutt!" Dean shouted.

She shook her head and frowned. "Good to see your manners haven't changed since we last met, Winchester," she said gruffly, then turned her attention to the taller brother behind him. "Hey, Sam. How's the weather up there?" She took a few steps closer to the pair to eye him with a smirk. "Your hair knows there's such a thing called scissors, right?"

Sam narrowed his eyes in response to her comment about his beloved hair. "What are you doing here Sarah? I thought you agreed to stay in the Northern States?"

Sarah adjusted her folded arms so they squeezed her chest tighter, and her smirk melted back into a frown. "Word on the street is that you guys started the Apocalypse. Is that true?" she asked.

The brothers exchanged a look, slightly taken aback by her question. Sure, it wasn't a secret among the hunter community that the 'end of the world' had begun, but the fact that they had started it wasn't common knowledge.

Dean didn't know what to say, but Sarah didn't wait for him to figure out his words. "Honestly, do you guys break everything you touch? Is making trouble your thing, or do were you cursed as kids?"

"Believe me, we ask the same questions," Sam answered with a sigh. The skinwalker gave him an unamused stare before she shook her head in exasperation.

"So, what are you doing here? Definitely not for a friendly visit, that's for sure," Dean snapped sarcastically. "What is it that you want?"

Hitching up her bag on her shoulder, Sarah's frustration faded into her normal hardened expression as she turned to glance at the diner behind them. "Have you tried this place's lunch menu? I swear, their burgers are the best," she said as she brushed past them out of the alley.

The brothers turned to watch her walk to the front entrance of the diner. "She still has our keys," Sam said to his brother.

Dean frowned. "I know, c'mon." With that, they hurried to follow the blonde as she opened the glass door to the diner and stepped inside.


	3. Clash of the Hunters

***Author's Note: This fic is set in Season 5 after the episode** _ **The End**_ **and before** _ **Fallen Idols**_ **, while the flashbacks take place in Season 4 between episodes** _ **Death Takes a Holiday**_ **and** _ **On the Head of a Pin**_ **. I will be posting every Tuesday.***

 _Chapter 2- One Year Ago_

 _The hobo let out a hiss over his forearm as he pinned Dean to the tiled wall. Hot, foul breath beat down on the hunter's face as the bearded man bared a set of vampire teeth at Dean, and the younger man grimaced. Why did this always happen him? He and his brother weren't even on a case yet. Just yesterday they were in Greybull looking for missing reapers. His bruises were still fresh._

" _I know you," the vampire growled behind a filthy gray beard. "You're a Winchester."_

 _The pressure on Dean's neck grew, and he felt his airway getting cut off. Dean tried to push the monster off him, but Beard had the upper hand. He had extra strength, while Dean had lost his machete in the brawl, and his little brother was nowhere to be seen._

 _Spots flickered in Dean's vision, speckling the image of the empty diner they stood in. Once again, he tried to push the vampire off him. But his feeble attempts were fruitless. The lack of air was taking its toll on the hunter._

" _You killed my brother, by the way," Beard panted, sending a wave of his disgusting breath directly up Dean's nose. Dean wanted to cough, but with his esophagus being pressed closed, he couldn't. "This is for him."_

 _The vampire opened his mouth to display his sharp fangs, ready to bury them into the hunter's neck, when something unexpected happened._

 _A single hand flashed into Dean's hazy sight, and roughly grabbed the vampire by his grimy beard. It yanked the monster backwards and off Dean. Now free, Dean let out a gasp and crumbled to the tile floor, frantically gulping in mouthfuls of air._

 _Once the stars in his eyes faded, Dean glanced upward, expecting to see his brother fighting off the vampire, but instead, a tall blonde woman was furiously swinging a machete at the bearded monster. The hobo vampire slowly backed away, trying to avoid the blade as she silently pushed forward._

 _Dean watched as she backed the monster into a table, and with a heavy grunt, she grabbed the vampire by the collar and slammed his head against the table. In a flash of silver, she brought her machete down on the monster's neck, ending him._

 _Tombstone, Arizona_

It wasn't uncommon for Sam and his brother to run into people from past hunts, nor was it rare to encounter monsters time and time again for them. But to see Sarah, someone could have slapped them and got a less response.

The trio had made a deal to avoid Sarah, and she to avoid them in turn. Yet there she was, sitting in a red pleather booth, fiddling with a fork across from them. Sam was still shaking off his surprise, while Dean threw distrustful glares at her as he chewed his burger.

"So, how did you find us?" Dean asked after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, his voice muffled by the chunk of hamburger in his mouth. Sam shot his brother a reproachful look, but turned his attention back to Sarah.

"I have my ways of finding people," she replied, as the fork twirled between her fingers.

Sam couldn't help but think that there was something off about her tone, but he didn't dare voice his thoughts as Dean wiped his mouth with a napkin and stared her dead in the eyes. "Okay, down to business," he said, clapping his hands together to brush off the crumbs of food. "What do you want?"

Sarah set the fork on the red table and pulled out a thick manilla file from her open backpack that sat beside her on the booth. The Winchesters watched in interest as she set it beside the fork. "In the last five days, three bodies have been found at Yellowstone National Park." She opened the folder, giving them full view of its contents. "Official cause of death for all three is animal maulings, but-,"

"You wouldn't be here if that were true," Dean stated bluntly.

She gave him a irritated look, but nodded. "Yes." Flicking the first paper over, she moved on to the next page, which held a series of photographs. She spread them out, revealing three profiles of different people.

Pointing to the first profile, Sarah moved their attention to a photograph of a middle aged woman with thin black hair and a rather impressive mole on her chin. "This is Martha Nicholas. A thirty-eight year old cook for a local high school. Seven days ago, she and her daughter went on a nature hike with their dog. Eight hours after they left, the daughter was found wandering about a mile away from the designated path. Her mom was nowhere to be found. The girl said that they were separated when she ran after her escaping dog."

Sam reached over and picked up the profile to study Martha's picture. "How did they found her?" he asked.

"More like they only found parts of her. Search and Rescue found her foot and part of her lower jaw a couple days later," she answered grimly, then moved her finger to point to the next picture, which depicted a younger looking man grinning at the camera. He sported a Yankees baseball cap over his short blond hair. "This guy here is Allen Fischer: a twenty-six year old outdoorsman. Now his story is similar to Martha's. Five days ago he left for a hike, and after two days of being missing, small bits of him were found just a quarter of a mile from where they found Martha."

"Which leads up to our last vic," she continued as she pointed to the final picture, which was of a dark skinned young woman smiling brightly at the camera through a wave of thick, dark curls that fell slightly over her face. "Meet Karla Monroy," she announced, tapping lightly on the glossy photograph for emphasis. "Again, the story's the same. Vic went off on a solo hike and two days later, bits of her were found less than a mile away from the last two bodies."

Sam flipped through the files, scanning every face and profile. The documents in his hands, he realized, were not photocopied like the usual files the police gave him when he posed as an FBI agent. They were originals. "How did you get all these?" he asked.

The blonde glanced down at the files, and shrugged. "I have some buddies that get me this sort of stuff."

With a frown, Dean took the file out of Sam's grip and began to flick through it. "Look, Pluto. We would like to join in on this one, but Sammy and I are on a job right now. We can't help you." The hunter shrugged with a smirk.

Slowly, Sarah sat up in her booth and leaned forward on the table with a smirk of her own. "Oh, the Bill Owen case?" I took care of your little 'salt and burn' last night. Your ghost isn't a problem anymore."

Sam furrowed his brow as questions flew in his mind, but Dean beat him to asking the first one. "You did what?!" his older brother demanded.

Sarah ignored him and pulled out another file from her backpack. "I got here two days before you two. The ghost was Miles Charleston. He died five years back in a drunken car accident, but was the only casualty out of five victims. Guess who the survivors were."

"Our three vics," Sam guessed, and the blonde nodded.

"Yep, I already took care of your case. That leaves you free to help me out on this one."

Dean held up his hand shook his head. "Wait a minute here. You took over our case, and now you expect us to help you?"

"Dean-," Sam began, but his brother ignored him and continued his rant.

"I got a question for you, Lassie: if you could solve our case so easily, why do you need our help for yours?" The question itself was innocent, but the venom in his voice dripped accusingly.

Casually, Sarah folded her hands neatly on the diner table and met Dean's eyes with a stormy glare. "You're the best in the business, Winchesters. The whole hunting community practically worships your name. Besides, I think you have forgotten that you owe me."

Giving his brother a confused glance Dean turned to the blonde. "We owe you?" he scoffed.

"You've must've forgotten when I rescued you from getting eaten by a pack of monsters," she replied. "Or is your memory not as sharp as you claim?"

Dean frowned at the snide remark. "Look blondie, I remember every second of that case, and it wasn't you who saved me." He jammed a thumb to his brother beside him. "It was Sam."

Shaking her head, Sarah reached over and pulled the manila file away from him. "Okay, fine. If you honestly don't want to help me, I'll just find a someone who will." She paused as she dangled the file tantalizingly over her bag in the boys' full view. "I'm just saying, a good case is right in front of you. You're passing up an easy opportunity." Her eyebrows twitched as she began to slide the file into her backpack, inch by inch.

The urge to reach over and grab the file burned in Sam's mind, but he didn't want to accept a case without Dean's consent. But to his surprise, he didn't have to wait long. "Okay, fine. We'll help you." Dean sighed as he held up his hand to stop the skinwalker from putting the file away completely.

Sarah nodded in satisfaction and began to climb out of the booth, slapping the manila file on the table as she scooched off the bench. "Good. I'll text you the name of the town and meet you there. I do still have that number you guys gave me."

The boys nodded in agreement as she stepped out of the booth, then pulled a wad of bills from her pocket and tossed them on the table, then dropped the Impala's keys over the money. "Lunch's on me," she said, and walked out the diner, leaving the two brothers alone at the gaudy red booth.


	4. Impatience is NOT a Virtue

***Author's Note: Special thanks to those who favorited this fic. I have spent nearly a year and a half working on this, and I appreciate all those who decide to sit back and read it. Thanks!***

 _Chapter 3- One Year Ago_

 _Silence fell on the empty diner as Dean stared at the woman above him. She stood over the limp body of the vampire that lay slumped on the table. Blood oozed off the sides of the plastic surface, pooling on the white linoleum floor by her feet. At the angle he sat, Dean couldn't see her face, nor could he see the decapitated head of the hobo. All that was in his line of sight was her hunched back facing him._

 _With a pounding head, Dean slowly pushed himself up off the floor, keeping his sights on the young woman as he shakily got to his feet. The denim jacket she was wearing had an odd assortment of dark stains in the fabric, especially a spot between her shoulder blades where a noticeable patch had been stitched there._

" _I hate vampires," she spoke in a low voice, then turned to look at him. Immediately, alarm bells rang in Dean's head as he stared into a pair of blazing eyes. Just a single glance told him the person standing in front of him was dangerous._

 _Her bloody machete hung limply in her right hand as she scanned him up and down, no doubt gauging if he was a threat._

 _She must have thought he was, because barely a second later, she whipped out a handgun and pointed it at him. "Get back on the floor. Now," she ordered with a firm tone._

 _Dean didn't move. "You're a hunter," he said, pointing to the corpse behind her._

 _The blonde hunter snorted. "Yeah, no kidding. Get on the floor."_

" _I'm a hunter, too," he protested, but the young woman didn't move. Instead, she just looked unimpressed._

" _Pretty terrible hunter if you ask me. Couldn't even take down an inexperienced vampire like ol' Greasy Beard here." She motioned to the headless body with her machete. "Now I'll ask one more time._ Get on that floor."

 _Dean frowned, but with that gun pointed at him, he didn't have much choice. So he carefully crouched down to the ground before settling against the wall behind him. "Now remove all your weapons and place them in front of you. Slowly."_

 _Before the elder Winchester could even reach for his knives, the faint tinkling of a bell sounded in the diner, signalling that someone had entered the building. The blonde glanced over her shoulder in its direction, and Dean took his chance. He leapt to his feet as he unsheathed his knife tucked in his jacket._

 _Too late, he realized as the blonde hunter snapped her head back to him, and somehow she managed to grab his wrist before he could use it. Light flashed in his vision and a sharp pain abruptly formed on his cheek, then in his abdomen. The light faded, and Dean found himself leaning against one of the tables in a daze. It didn't take him long to realize the woman had hit him hard, twice._

 _Under the ringing in his ears, Dean heard his little brother shout in anger at the blonde, then through the stars flecking his sight, he saw Sam holding her at gunpoint._

" _Drop em'! Now!" Sam shouted in a commanding voice as he slowly made his way toward her. The woman didn't move._

" _Sam… wait," Dean groaned, but it was too late. The blonde lunged for his little brother, snatching his gun away with intense speed, then drove her elbow into his nose._

 _And just like that, Sam was out. Dean watched helplessly as his younger brother crumbled to the tiled floor at the woman's feet, totally unconscious._

" _No," he grunted, pushing off the table. He staggered to her, but she suddenly appeared inches away from him._

" _Good night," she said, lifting a hand under her lips. She blew into her palm, and a green powder plumed into Dean's face. He took a step back, but the strange herbal smell of the powder was in his nose, and he suddenly felt really drowsy. That was his last thought before everything went black._

The Impala rolled into a motel parking lot in West Yellowstone, Idaho, where a familiar woman stood waiting for them. Sarah was leaning casually against the driver's door of a green Jeep with a sour expression on her face as Dean parked the car in the next space.

She was wearing a nicely pressed pantsuit and forest green blouse, something Dean had never seen her wear before. With her blonde hair pulled neatly back in a tight bun, he wouldn't have realized it was her if not for the fact she was standing next to the only car in the lot. Something a person dressed like that would never drive.

"Hey," Sam greeted the female hunter as he and Dean climbed out of the Impala.

"Took you long enough to get here," she grumbled. "I've been here for hours, what held you up?"

Dean frowned at her rude greeting and eyed her outfit with a raised eyebrow. "Sorry we didn't break the freaking speed limit to get here, Lassie. We needed to make a couple pit stops on the way."

She tapped her foot against the asphalt for a second, then grabbed a folder sitting on the hood of her Jeep. It largely resembled the manila folder she had given them earlier. "Well, lucky for you, I did a bit of research while I was waiting-"

"Hold on a second," Sam interrupted, raising his hand. "You want to start now?"

She turned to face him with an indignant stare. "Uh, yeah? This thing has killed three people already. I don't want to waste any more time on this case."

"Well, do you think you can wait another hour? Maybe let Dean and I check into our rooms first?" I haven't taken a shower in-."

He was interrupted by sudden piano notes of _Für Elise._ With no hesitation, Sarah quickly whipped out a small flip phone and flipped it open. "Yeah, what is it?" she answered. They stood in silence for a moment as the person on the other end of her conversation spoke. Sarah nodded eagerly as she listened, then abruptly turned away from them. "How fresh?" they heard her ask. There was a little more nodding, until Sarah broke the silence again. "Okay, on my way," she said, then snapped the phone shut.

As she turned back to face them, the brothers stared at her expectantly. "It seems like there was another attack in the Park," she announced, shoving the phone in her pocket. The brothers exchanged sidelong glances at the news, but when they turned to look at Sarah, she was starting to climb in her Jeep.

"Woah! Where are you going?" Dean exclaimed in anger.

The look Sarah gave him was as if she was staring at an idiot. "There's another victim, and I need to get there before the Park Rangers remove the body."

"Wait for us first!" interjected Sam. "We still need to change."

Sarah let out a huff, but didn't move further into her Jeep. "Fine. Go get checked in and change. Just be back in twenty minutes, or I won't still be here to show you where the body is."

Dean was about to voice his frustration with her attitude, but Sam spoke first. "Wouldn't it make more sense to ride with us?" His little brother motioned to the Impala.

Instantly, Dean felt the urge to punch his brother in the arm for even suggesting that. Sam knew the rules about what got to ride in Baby. There was no way he was letting Sarah in his car.

The blonde must have noticed the disagreement on Dean's face, because after a quick glance in his direction, Sarah shook her head and patted the side of her Jeep with her free hand. "No thanks, I'm good with Ol' Green here," she said, then climbed the rest of the way in her vehicle. "By the way, you only have nineteen minutes now."


	5. Longpork Spaghetti

***Author's Note: Hey guys! I'm posting a day early because I'm getting some wisdom teeth removed tomorrow. I hope you enjoy it! Special thanks to cammiemorris7 for the review!**

Chapter 4- One Year Ago

 _Dean awoke in a start. He sat up from his supine position, gasping for breath as his heart hammered against his aching chest. He didn't know why he was suddenly so distressed, but there was a dull throb coming from his stomach. A second later, he felt a sting from his cheek. Wincing, he reached up to touch it. To his surprise, his fingers brushed the rough fabric of a bandage, and as he felt it further, he was pretty sure someone had put cream on it. His first thought was Sam, but then he looked around at his surroundings._

 _He was in a well-kept bedroom, lying on a twin sized bed atop a patterned quilt. Furrowing his brow, Dean studied the walls around him, which were decorated by generic landscape paintings typical for a country-themed guest room. Dean looked to his left, and he saw another twin bed sitting on the other side of the room. A quilt identical to his was laid out on the bed, but it was wrinkled, as if it were recently vacated._

 _The elder Winchester frowned, confused to where he was, when it clicked. Memories of before came rushing back, and Dean gritted his teeth angrily. If he saw that chick again, he was going to shoot her._

 _Slowly, he swung his feet over the edge of the bed and rested them on the carpeted floor. For a moment he wondered if he should remove his boots, but pushed the thought out of his mind, and checked his gear. To his relief, his gun and all his knives were still on him._

 _Feeling slightly safer, Dean stood up from the bed and exited the room through the open door, all while keeping his hand near the pearl grip of his gun._

 _When he poked his head out into a hallway, he heard a pair of muffled voices coming from his right, where the hall lead to a living room. Hesitantly, he followed them, scanning the hall as he went. He assumed there were only two other people in the house, but the unfamiliar house made him feel uneasy._

 _He stepped into the living room, and was instantly met with a scene that could have been taken from_ A Beautiful Mind _. The wall across from the entrance to the room was covered with photographs, newspaper clippings, and handwritten notes. Red string webbed the psycho collage together, supposedly connecting the papers tacked on the wall._

 _Now, the collage itself didn't bother Dean. Both he and Sam used this method of connecting the evidence for a case. No, it was the size of it that was disturbing. The entire thing took up over half of the whole wall._

" _Dean!"_

 _Dean jumped and whirled around to the voice, only to see his brother standing in a doorway opposite to the one the elder Winchester entered in. It was as if someone had punctured a balloon of tension in his chest as Dean looked at his little brother._

" _You're awake? Sarah said you probably wouldn't be for another fifteen minutes or so," Sam said with a look of relief as he walked up to his older brother._

 _Dean rose a suspicious eyebrow. "Sarah? Sarah who?"_

" _That would be me," an aggravatingly familiar voice said behind him._

 _Yellowstone National Park_

Silence reigned in the Impala as the two brothers drove to the crime scene. Sam didn't speak as he uncomfortably sat beside his brother, who, from the looks of his expression, was wordlessly sending a string of profanities as the clunky Jeep in front of them. It was no secret to Sam that Dean resented Sarah, but his brother's sour mood was starting to get on Sam's nerves. So far, Sarah hadn't done anything to warrant such a harsh reaction from Dean. Sure, she was acting a bit off from her usual stiff, rule-keeping self. Maybe a bit rude, but nothing to get such hatred from Dean. The thought of their last encounter with the blonde sent a shiver down Sam's back, but Dean was too focused on giving the Jeep death glares to notice.

"Could she drive any slower?" Dean growled under his breath, breaking the silence in the car. Sam glanced at his brother warily, deciding to remain mute and let Dean vent his frustration. "I mean, seriously! Old ladies drive faster than she does!" Sam didn't speak, only tensing in his seat at his brother's tone. "Her crappy Jeep must be the reason, to be honest. Just look at that paint job on the back! I doubt it has never gotten a good fix since the day it was made."

As he said that, Dean pointed a finger to the back of the Jeep, where Sam could see a large rusted chip in the paint just above the license plate. Upon further inspection, Sam could see that the vehicle bore many chips in its green paint, mainly on the edges of the windows and along the seams in the metal. It was painfully obvious to him that Sarah didn't give the same amount of affection to her mode of transportation as Dean did to the Impala.

Eventually, Sarah's paint-chipped Jeep lead them to the entrance of the Park, where they easily passed through the gate checkpoint with a flash of their FBI badges. The guard seemed relatively surprised to see the ID's, but let them pass with a tip of his wide-brimmed hat.

Not long after they passed through the gate, Sarah turned off the highway onto a gravel road. Two sheriff cruisers were parked on the side of the road with their red and blue lights flashing, illuminating the tall pine trees flanking the road. The Jeep pulled up behind the nearest cruiser, and the Impala rolled to a stop behind Sarah.

She stepped out of her vehicle while nervously smoothing her jacket and adjusting her forest green shirt as Sam and his older brother stepped out of the Impala.

Sam stepped up to her with a look of concern. "Hey, you alright?"

Her wide blue-green eyes gazed up at him for a moment before they quickly averted to the ground. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine," she replied. "I'm good." She sucked in a deep breath. "I haven't done this for a while. Usually St- I mean, my friend, takes care of this part of hunting."

Sam nodded in understanding and reached into his pocket and pulled out a spare FBI badge and offered it to her. "Here, you're gonna need this."

Sarah shook her head and patted her jacket. "I have my own. Thanks anyway," she responded and took another deep breath.

With a shrug, Sam replaced the ID in his pocket.

"Are you two gonna stay gossiping over there, or are we gonna do this?" Dean barked over the roof of the Impala.

After shooting his brother an annoyed glare, Sam watched Sarah take another deep breath before she brushed past him to meet Dean by the hood of the car. "You are one sarcastic remark from losing a few teeth, fruitcake." The blonde hunter muttered sarcastically. It was just loud enough for both brothers to hear.

The trio walked to the trees lined with strings of yellow tape, where a portly middle aged officer strolled up to meet them. "Sorry folks, this area is blocked off," he told them as he hitched up his khakis by the belt loops.

Dean stepped up, taking charge as he pasted on a serious expression in front of the officer. "FBI. I'm Agent Cash, these are my colleagues Agent Denver and Agent Lawrence," Dean announced as he and Sam flashed their badges. Sarah, however, stood between them, nervously eyeing the trees as if she was worried that something might jump out of them. Nudging her with an elbow, Dean pulled her out of whatever was going on in her head, and she quickly yanked out her own badge. Pursing his lips, Dean rolled his eyes and turned back to the man giving Sarah unsure looks. "Sorry, she's new."

Tucking his thumbs in his front pant pockets, the officer studied them curiously. "Oh yeah. I got a call from your supervisor. He said you'd be coming," he said.

Furrowing his brow, Sam turned to his brother, only to see Dean mirroring his confused expression.

Their thoughts were cut off, however, when the officer continued talking. "Welcome to Yellowstone, Agents," he announced proudly, oblivious to the brothers' unsure glances. "I'm Sheriff Harpin. I'm in charge of this case, and I'd like to know why the FBi is investigating an animal attack."

Sam glanced down at Sarah's shaking hands as she returned her badge in her jacket pocket. She definitely wasn't going to talk, that he knew, so he was the one to answer.

"Agent Lawrence here is being evaluated. The guys up top figured a rough scene like an animal attack would help break her in." Officer Harpin's focus turned to Sarah, who quickly straightened up.

"No offense Agent, but I don't think she can handle a scene like this," Harpin said in amusement.

Sam shook his head and replied, "Let us be the judge of that, officer. If you could show us where the body is, that would be great." The older man nodded, slightly alarmed by the sudden but subtle murderous glare that Sarah was giving him and motioned them to follow him.

"A kid found it," the officer explained as the four of them picked their way through the thick undergrowth.

"It?" Sarah asked, speaking aloud to Harpin for the first time.

The officer glanced at her warily before he continued. "This body has been torn apart. I can't tell whether it's a male or a female. It could be an alien for all I know," he stopped and pointed to a thick tree trunk that stood a couple hundred yards away from them. "It's behind there, in the clearing," he said and shoved his hands into the pockets of his khakis. "If you have any questions, I'll be by my car."

Sam stared at him curiously as the older man made his way back to the road. "What, you got a weak stomach?" Dean called after him. The officer didn't answer as he hurried away, looking slightly green around the gills.

Sarah shook her head in disgust. "Tourist," she muttered, then turned to the tree, and froze. With the officer gone, her apprehensive expression had returned. Sam glanced at his brother curiously, who in turn studied the blonde hunter with a frown.

"What's the matter, Lassie? Got a nervous stomach too?" asked Dean.

The remark earned the elder Winchester an annoyed glare from Sarah before she adjusted her jacket and marched over to the tree with her head held high. The boys closely followed.

"So, we have a supervisor?" Dean asked as he stepped over a particularly thorny bush that hung over the thin deer trail. The trees were beginning to thin out, and bigger patches of sunlight streamed onto the carpet of brown pine needles from the larger gaps between the trees overhead. Sarah firmly marched down the trail, barely acknowledging the forest surrounding her, and ignoring the elder Winchester's question.

Sam wasn't sure, but she seemed slightly paler than usual. Sarah normally had a rather ruddy complexion, but at that moment her color had all but disappeared.

That thought quickly left his mind as they stepped around the big tree. The moment he stepped around the hefty trunk, he was met with a gory sight.

"Well, he certainly wasn't kidding," Sam said with a grimace as the three entered the clearing. Dean and Sarah walked to either side of him, staring at the body, or what was left of it. The mass before them hardly looked like the remains of a human being. It held a better resemblance to a pile of spaghetti with too much sauce than a human being. Chunks of flesh and sinew were strewn around the small clearing, and some pieces still had frayed bits of clothing glued to them with drying blood. But the most disgusting thing about the scene was the smell. A putrid stench of rotting meat hung thickly in the warm autumn air like an invisible cloud. "This guy looks like they went through a meat grinder."

"Regretting all those pit stops now, Dean?" Sarah chuckled uncomfortably at Dean as they circled the carnage, careful not to step on any entrails. "You look a little uneasy."

"What, you aren't?" he shot back.

She gave him a small grimace. "Buddy, this isn't the worst state of a body I've seen. To me, this is nothing."

Sam gave her a worried look as a gruesome image of the blonde popped in his head. "Thanks for the picture," he groaned.

She gave him a reassuring look that momentarily masked her nausea, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking of. "You're welcome," she replied, ignoring the strange look dean was giving her.

Clearing his throat, Sam pulled out his EMF detector from his jacket pocket. The younger Winchester fiddled with the device, but to his disappointment it remained silent. "Well, we can cross ghost off the list," he announced, tucking the gadget back in his jacket.

"And I'm not smelling any sulfur, so no demon either," Sarah added, then creased her forehead in thought. She started muttering something softly to herself, speaking too quietly for Sam to completely understand what she was saying. What he could piece from it was something about a deer.

The three of them circled around the corpse with Dean grimaging in disgust. "Well, this looks like a foot," he observed, pointing to a bloody shoe, then motioned to a gore-covered limb a few feet away. "And that is an arm."

"And that is pretty much what we have left of this body." Sam sighed.

"It's enough," Sarah insisted.

"Oh yeah?" Dean hissed at the blonde hunter. "How is that?"

"Just give me a minute," she stated flatly, ignoring his question.

Dean rolled his eyes, then motioned to the messy remains at her feet. "Well then, by all means, Sherlock, go ahead," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Sarah let out an exasperated huff as she crouched down by the body and gingerly prodded the mass of bloody tissue, then sniffed her hand. In the corner of his eye, Sam caught sight of Dean frowning at her in disgust. He couldn't help but smile in amusement as he guessed what his brother was thinking: " _Why did she have to touch the body?"._

"Human, obviously. In their late thirties, possibly early forties." She straightened up and pulled a bandana from her pocket to wipe her hand. "Whoever this guy was, he definitely loved his iron supplements, that's for sure."

"He?" Sam tore his eyes away from the dismembered body to the blonde hunter.

"Yeah, the muscle structure is of a man. It's too bulky for a woman."

"How can you tell if the muscles are bulky if there isn't a piece large enough to tell?" Dean rose a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Do you want to do this, or will you let me figure this out?" she shot back with a growl.

"Guys." Sam sighed, quieting the two bickering hunters. "Is there anything else Sarah?"

With a nod, the young woman motioned to the corpse at her feet and perched her other hand on her hip. "Yeah, there's something off about his blood, other than his apparent love for seafood."

"What?"

"He smells wrong for some reason. I know how human blood is supposed to smell, and there's something….how should I put it: off?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, the dude's been filleted. Of course he smells bad." Dean straightened up and gave the body another disgusted look before turning to face her.

Sam watched Sarah drop her hand to her side in resignation and he couldn't help but laugh internally. It was kind of funny to watch his brother mess with her, but he knew that somewhere they were testing Sarah's patience. He had seen what happened when she lost her temper. Thankfully she took it out on the monsters they were hunting at that time, and he was sure he didn't want to be on the receiving end of her fury.

"So, I guess this means that it's definitely not a "normal" animal attack," Sam said in attempts to change the subject. "You have an idea on what we're dealing with?"

Shaking her head, Sarah turned away from Dean to face the younger Winchester. "Whatever it is, it's difficult to say what exactly it is."

Behind Sarah, Sam watched his brother toss his arms into the air in exasperation before her turned back around to look at the body. Ignoring Dean, Sam focused on Sarah. "Do you have any potential monster suspects?"

The blonde opened her mouth to reply, but she hesitated, visibly thinking on what to say. She suddenly looked extremely nervous. "Well, I would like to say wendigo, but this doesn't feel like a wendigo attack. They don't leave gory scenes like this."

"Yeah, we're gonna need to do some more research to figure out what it really is," Sam said, giving the red mush an uneasy look.


End file.
